Dramione Dreams and Drabbles
by Kyonomiko
Summary: A collection of drabbles with no order, direction, or purpose. Most are set within the universe established in my completed work, Dreams of Requirement, though some only loosely and not necessarily.
1. Proper Manners

**So I asked at the end of Dreams of Requirement if anyone would like some follow up drabbles and I had some positive responses. So I have a couple written and thought I'd post one! If there is anything in particular you might like to see, I'd love to hear from you. I already have a Christmas scene written, inspired by reviews from UnicornShenanigans which I will probably post tomorrow. These might be anywhere from a couple hundred words to a couple thousand and will not be in any order.**

 **If you have not read Dreams, of course I'd love you to do so. Spoiler alert:**

 **It has a happy ending :)**

 **If you enjoy or have suggestions, please review!**

 **Time Period: Tent camping during the hunt for horcruxes, relatively early on.**

"What is it?"

Harry looks down at the plate in Draco's hand and then back up to the blonde's face. "Well... it's fish."

Draco looks back down at the plate and then over to Hermione who is taking another piece of the nearly eviscerated meat out of a pan to place on an identical plate for Weasley. He exchanges a look with Ron and they come to a moment of solidarity unlike any he could have imagined to experience.

"If you don't like it," Granger snips out at them all, " _you_ can catch something. And cook it by the way. I'm not your Mother, nor your nursemaid, nor your house elf." She sits herself cross-legged on the ground and starts to eat the fish with a rather petulant look on her face, ignoring the three of them.

Draco looks at Potter then Weasley who both shrug at him, completely lost as to how to proceed, other than to pick up their own fish.

Moving around their sad little campfire, he takes a place next to Hermione and musters all the pureblood upbringing at his disposal. "I'm sure it's amazing, Hermione. You always do wonders. I was only curious as to what type of fish you had found in this area."

"Oh..." She looks chastised and he feels a little guilty. He hadn't meant that at all. He had meant 'what is this hunk of nearly black flesh you've dumped with no ceremony onto my lap'. But that would most likely lead to sleeping in the tent with Ron and Harry and he was _not_ having that.

Taking a bite, it's every bit as flavorless and unappealing as he could have guessed. "You've done a wonderful job with such limited culinary tools, Love."

She beams at him and gives a significant and annoyed stare to the other two as she answers him, "Thank you, Draco. I'm glad someone can appreciate the challenge of good food preparation in the middle of the bloody forest."

Over her head, Draco smirks at the other two boys before choking down the rest of the fish. Secretly, he washes the flavor away with a hearty chug of the firewhiskey he rationed early on and hid within his water canteen.

 _Suckers_.


	2. A Very Muggle Christmas

"What… pardon me my ignorance, but Miss Granger could I enquire as to what I do with this… gadget?"

Lucius Malfoy is sitting in one of the formal parlors of Malfoy Manor with a cheerily wrapped present in his lap. He already schooled the sneer on his face once when he caught site of the paper that was printed with garish reindeer wearing muggle trousers and toasting each other with frothing mugs.

Narcissa is sitting to his left with her own gift, waiting her turn to open while Draco and Hermione sit across from them, very cozily snuggled in a small loveseat, their hands clasped between them.

"Oh! Well you see we were unsure if you were familiar with them but it's a muggle video recorder. It takes a moving picture of whatever you point it at." She rises and walks across the room, around the low coffee table, and holds out her hand. "May I?"

Still hiding that sneer, he offers it up to her, nearly pinching the thing between two fingers as if the contraption might be diseased.

As she is powering it up, a house elf pops in the room with a tray of cider in steaming mugs.

"Pipsy will just leave these on the table, yes Mistress?" She addresses Narcissa and all the while, keeps a large watery eye on Hermione, trying to cover her head with one hand.

"Yes, yes that's fine. Don't worry, Pipsy, I've made Miss Granger promise no hats on her person while in the manor."

The little elf breathes a sigh and bows before popping away with a snap.

Hermione, rather oblivious to the exchange, holds up the recorder and points it at Draco. He had needed very little convincing to gift such an item to his parents. Hermione had chuckled evilly at the idea of getting them something so absolutely muggle and her wicked streak made him love her all the more. "Do something for the camera, Draco."

Draco does as instructed and sits up straighter, offering a wave at the camera. "Merry Christmas, Father and Mother. Hermione and I are looking forward to many evenings at the manor in the coming year so you can get to know this girl who has so…. bewitched me." He winks and Hermione rolls her eyes with a grin, stopping the recording.

She turns to Lucius and points at the screen on the device. "You can put this video on another machine with a larger screen. I'll tell you more about that another time. For now, just watch it here."

Narcissa, in spite of herself, is curious and leans closer to her husband's shoulder. He tilts the device her direction so they can both watch. Reaching over the machine, Hermione makes the video play and is delighted when both Malfoys jump a little and watch Draco's performance again.

The Malfoy matriarch brings her hand dramatically over her heart and breathes out, "Well I had no idea muggles had such clever trinkets."

"Much like a wizarding photo wouldn't you say, Mother?" Draco shares a smile with Hermione. They had wanted to give his family something that might give them a broader view of muggles and the muggle world, hoping to further their acceptance of Hermione by discounting the notion that she came from a barbaric and distasteful world.

"Open yours." Draco nods to his mother and she smiles softly before tearing into her own wrapping. Hermione had giggled endlessly when she chose Lucius' paper, but for Narcissa she wanted to appeal to her elegance and maybe even, dare she hope, impress her. Her gift was wrapped in a lustrous peacock-green foil with a subtle monochromatic print of repeating fleur de lis. It is topped with a wired satin ribbon that Hermione had looped and curled into a bow nearly the size of the box so that the end pieces tumbled luxuriously over the sides.

When they had handed both over, Lucius had glanced back and forth between them before forcing a blank expression onto his face. Hermione couldn't wait to mimic it later tonight with Draco when they lay in bed, cuddled close and snickering about their first Christmas.

"Such a beautifully presented gift. I've hardly the heart to tear it open."

"I promise there will be more equally stunning gifts from us in the future so no need to forgo enjoying this one." Draco squeezes Hermione's hand and lifts it almost imperceptibly as he says 'us'.

Of course by the twitch of his right eye, it is apparent Lucius noticed.

Narcissa opens the package to reveal some sort of cloth zippered satchel, a strange square object with what appears to be a rubber tail, and small plastic rectangles in encasements. She looks up with pureblood poise and says, "Of course I will hope to receive a demonstration of my gift as well?"

Draco gestures to his father. "It's a sort of joint gift for the two of you. You have there a power cord that will charge the item with 'electricity'. I've already spoken with a specialist who can fit the manor with a sort of magic electric system in one of the spare rooms. There is also a case to protect the recorder and then those little items contain additional storage so you can keep more videos. Each one can only hold so many before it runs out of space."

His parents look a little perplexed but he was prepared. Also, the gift has another purpose.

"Here, let me see that one." He plucks one item from his mother and gestures for the camera from his father. "Hermione and I wanted to be able to show you how this works. I hope you don't mind but we played around with it a little to be prepared. We have a video on this cartridge to show you."

Hermione is beaming with pride every time Draco says things like "electricity" and "cartridge".

Draco sets up the video he and Hermione had prepared and makes it start for his parents.

On the small screen, Draco and Hermione are sitting on the sofa in their shared flat. Cohabitating was an early battle they had with both sets of parents but the argument that they had been living together in a tent for months did carry a little logical weight.

In an elegant blue jumper, Hermione starts. "Mister and Missus Malfoy, I want you to know what an amazing man you have raised. I've never met anyone as intelligent, thoughtful, intuitive, caring, or brave as your son. It is a testament to the amazing people I know you must be for Draco to be such an incredible person. I hope this is the first Christmas of many that we can share with you."

Narcissa looks up from the screen and offers the couple a thin put-upon smile.

Draco, in a predictably green jumper, continues on the video. "Mother. Father. This year has been a difficult one for all of us. I couldn't have made it through without knowing you were there, somewhere thinking of me. But I also would not have survived without this brilliant and beautiful witch. She gave me everything of herself even as I had treated her with cruelty and derision. She is the most forgiving woman I could hope to love me."

They glance at each other both on the screen and in the here-and-now, steeling themselves.

"That's why I've asked her to be my wife. I'm honored to say that she has accepted." They clasp hands and pull each other closer and he finishes, "We wanted you to be the first to know so this is Christmas Eve that I've asked and presumably we are sitting in front of you now, looking forward to being a family with you and, Merlin willing, our children in the years ahead. Merry Christmas. We love you."

The screen goes black and Narcissa's mouth has dropped open, in shock or horror Hermione and Draco are both unsure. Lucius, to his credit, is only looking at the screen with a passive expression when he finally just starts playing with the buttons on the machine.

"Inventive way to make an announcement. Bit unorthodox, not traditional. But clever," he says in distracted mumble, almost disinterested.

Narcissa looks at her husband, mouth still dropped open. Shock, Hermione has decided. That look is shock.

"Mother, say something?"

"I- yes of course. Your father and I, we expected perhaps but it just seems… I suppose it is a little sooner than I had imagined, my dove."

Draco shrugs. "I thought Hermione was given to me as my perfect future. I was sure the Room of Requirement had produced a fantasy, an ideal witch, to show me what I could have. Who I could be. And I never questioned it because to me, she _is_ perfect. Leaving the Room certainly never changed that. I can't imagine living without her, so why wait? She might get away."

He looks at her with softened eyes and Hermione breathes deep a sigh before smiling back. "I love you, Draco."

Narcissa is watching them with a calculating countenance when she finally takes a fortifying breath of her own. "It's not as though I can feign surprise at this outcome. You wear your heart on your sleeve like a Hufflepuff around her, Dragon." Draco chuckles at the comparison.

"Lucius, congratulate your son," she says in her snappy, no nonsense tone.

"What? Oh yes, yes. Congratulations, son." Lucius is still fiddling with the machine and popping tapes in and out from Narcissa's box. "I think I can figure out… there."

He sits back, nearly oblivious to the room but very proud of himself for figuring out the muggle contraption.

"It looks as though this one has a recording too. Another message for us?" He gives them a stern look. "Do not imagine I will be impressed if you have already placed her in _the family way_ , Draco. I am trying to be rather accepting but there are still social expectations from a properly raised young man."

Draco and Hermione exchange a glance, trying to figure out what is on the…

They both gasp at once and reach for the machine just as the video begins to play.

Hermione is mortified and Draco is choking out excuses as Lucius Malfoy sees first hand an example of just how happy his future daughter-in-law makes his son, in the privacy of their bed chamber.

Narcissa glances over and raises an eyebrow. "You should have that looked at, my darling. That mole on your backside."

With a sniff she picks up her cider and takes a sip.

 **A/N**

 **As I mentioned, this is UnicornShenanigans inspired, though I wasn't able to work in Hermione's campaign to replace the Malfoy peacocks with ducks so the plumed birds could be moved to a more suitable habitat... darn it.**

 **Thank you Lightof, Unicorn, Trinka, Jade, and Gaeleria for your reviews yesterday! Hope you like this holiday treat**

 **Looking forward to hearing your comments! Thanks for those reading, following, and favoriting as well!**


	3. Playing Pretend

**A/N This chapter is told from Hermione's perspective and would fit into the Dreams of Requirement story pretty early on. After many of their philosophical debates, but before a true romance set in. Since Draco stole that show, I hope this will be enjoyable to see inside her head a little as well.**

"You were in a particularly wretched mood in Ancient Runes today."

Hermione is sitting cross-legged on the Hogwarts grounds just out of reach of the whomping willow when she sees her dream version of Draco approaching from the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

He flops down next to her, rather close for her liking. Well, maybe she does like it... a little. What's the harm in that? He's just a pretty face here anyway. She has struggled a fair amount with her own self-respect as she finds herself attracted to someone who would treat her so terribly for years.

But that's the _real_ Draco who was so vile. This one is _much_ more civil. Still a bit bigoted but at least he argues reasons for his beliefs instead of spouting thoughtless hate. She might not agree with the conclusions he has drawn, but she has trouble arguing the base points. Muggles probably would treat witches and wizards horribly, some of them anyway. Purebloods have a right to be a little afraid.

Not to mention, when they aren't debated pureblood beliefs, he can be funny and charming and handsome as all get out.

"Fucking Pansy had just been hounding me to a detour with her into a broom closet."

She shoulder checks him, uncharacteristically forward for Hermione Granger, but the nature of these dreams has that effect on her. "I can't believe you'd turn down the offer, even if it was Parkinson."

He snorts and leans back on his elbows, lounging beside her with his face turned up into the sun and eyes closed. "Maybe a year ago but I can hardly stand to listen to her simpering nonsense now. No reason to settle. I'm a Malfoy: I can do infinitely better."

That annoying little fissure of jealousy cracks at Hermione's insides but she manages to stuff it down deep. It's a ridiculous thought anyway, to give into such a notion. Jealous of what? Her own imagination? The goings-on of a boy she can't stand when she's awake?

Instead she plays along with the banter. "Oh yes? And what would live up to Prince Malfoy's standards then? She's pureblooded, relatively pretty if you get past that nose of hers, Slytherin, and worships you like a parchment colored God."

He laughs a little. "You know you can keep poking fun at my complexion but I rather like my fair skin."

"I'm not really poking fun," she admits with a light blush. "It is rather becoming... I mean with your hair color and all. It's... it's appropriate is all I meant." She looks away, ignoring the smug look she seems to have created on her fantasy's face.

After a moment, he takes mercy on her and goes back to the original topic. "The trouble with Pans," he works out slowly, "is she's just... what you see is _not_ what you should get. _You_ think she's an empty-headed twit I'm sure but she's not. That fawning and pouting is just her act: What's expected from her family. I'd probably have more patience for her if she'd stop." He considers a moment before he continues thoughfully, "I've seen it, the real Pansy. She's actually sort of clever. Funny even. Back when I fancied her, I thought maybe she'd be different when it was just us but she can't seem to let go."

"I'm sure that's true of a lot of your house. Isn't that the Slytherin way after all? Put on a mask. Be who you need to be to get what you want."

He eyes her before he replies, "well then if she wants me she's going to have to find a new mask because I'm not interested."

"So... you want someone clever then do you? Or is it honesty you're after?"

"Oh both definitely," he grins. "Why? Are you applying for the position?" He wriggles his eyebrows at her and it makes her blush just a little deeper.

Is _this_ what _she's_ looking for? She thought what she wanted was the familiar warmth of her friend. Hermione was positive that Ronald Weasley was it for her. All stocky build and friendly face and casual intimacy. Instead, when she finds herself in what feels like a very good dream, she's faced with this arrogant, pointy aristocrat with lovely grammar and slender frame. He's difficult and challenging and just utterly everything that Ron is not.

Yet here she sits, all flushed and flustered with a fluttering from her tummy to her toes and an undeniable urge to reach over and brush that very pale and decidedly not red hair off his alabaster skin.

So of course her response to discomfort is absolute denial. "Of course not. I have a bit too much respect to lower myself to someone as close minded as you."

He looks a little hurt but quickly schools that expression and instead just says casually, "Suit yourself. I'm sure there's a destitute muggle with a heart of gold ready to fill you full of half-blood babies and pretend he's not terrified of you."

Well that cut to the quick. Just as soon as she lets herself think these dreams are some sort of fantasy, they jab at her concerns and fears. The kinds of things she hides even from herself.

As unwelcome as she has felt in the Wizarding world at times, she is doubly aware she can't really go back to her old life either. Muggles, outside of maybe her parents, will never understand her. (Neither will her parents truthfully but the unconditional love to a child is her saving grace with them.)

So if not someone like Malfoy because he hates where she's from, but not a muggle because they can't understand what she is, and not Ron apparently because she's not enough of a giggling tart for him...

Her dating field is depressingly slim. Maybe she should just let that Neanderthal McLaggen have a chance.

She shudders to herself. No, that's still not a good idea.

"Who says I'm even interested in that sort of future? Do I seem the overly domestic type to you? I'll have an education and a career and if I deem someone worth my time, maybe I'll marry later in life. Consider a family if it fits our life."

Ok so yes she's fronting a little. She _does_ want a family. Hermione was raised in a home with two career oriented parents and yet they were a loving and close unit as well. She wants what she had as a child. She's surprised the dream doesn't already know everything about her. But then, she has noticed she's pretty capable of lying to herself or the Room or whatever this magic is. This Draco might press for answers, but with the ignorance of someone who knows her barely at all.

"I suppose that's possible," he shrugs. "You don't strike me like the pureblooded girls trying to make a proper match. I guess that's an effect of your upbringing?"

She's pleased that there doesn't seem to be the usual derision in his tone when he mentioned her family or her blood. Maybe her fantasy is allowing her to believe she could actually change hearts and minds in pureblood circles if given the proper chance.

Not likely of course, the idea of convincing Draco Malfoy of anything is laughable, let alone his family and friends.

"I suppose yes, it is. It's very common for muggle women to have careers and start a family later in life... or even not at all."

"Would you really be happy?" he asks? He seems genuinely curious. "Would you be satisfied without leaving a family, a legacy?"

Well, he did say he wanted honestly in a witch. Just because he's not real, why deny him? "No," she admits carefully. "I don't know for sure that I would be satisfied. Waiting, yes I don't mind waiting. But someday... I guess I do envision having that. A husband, children-"

"How many?"

She starts. It seems an abrupt question and she answers truthfully. "I guess I have no idea. Two maybe?"

"Not a brood like your friend Weasel?"

She glares but without a lot of heat. She can't be too angry when this figment is just parroting her deep and honest opinions back. "No. Not a brood. I have no interest in shackling myself to a nursery and I can't see having a career with that large a family."

He regards her for what starts to feel like an uncomfortably long time before he just nods and goes back to sunning his face, eyes closed, luxuriating in the warmth. "That sounds like a reasonable opinion."

It's her turn to snort. "When have I ever been anything but reasonable?"

"How about when you campaigned for the rights of a savage creature that nearly mauled me to death?"

"Oh my God... Buckbeak? Are you seriously still whinging about that?"

"You know, Granger, that monster actually hurt me. I'm sure my well-being didn't mean much to you and Potter," he spits out Harry's last name like he always does, like it tastes sour on his tongue, " but it wasn't just the scratch you all seemed to believe."

She actually had heard that, after the fact. Heard he was in the hospital wing for hours, painfully knitting flesh back together and choking down blood replenishing potions.

Maybe because Draco had been at fault, taunting the Hippogriff, she hadn't wanted to admit his injury had some merit. To do so would be giving credit to the notion of putting the animal down and she couldn't allow that, even in the back of her mind. Out of loyalty to Hagrid if nothing else.

Then again, hadn't she already decide that Hagrid was an irresponsible and unprofessional instructor?

"Still, you didn't have to make such a big deal of it," she sniffs.

He grins, maybe seeing through her sad attempt at deflection. "But making a deal of it won me so much favor with the witches, didn't you know?"

She rolls her eyes and stamps down that fissure once again, feeling a little sick inside at the thought of Draco laying bandaged and smiling like a cat amongst a harem of pretty girls. She settles on a simple, "You're incorrigible."

"So I've come to understand. Not such a bad thing to be though is it? I'm entertaining."

Hermione can't argue with that; she does find herself endlessly entertained most nights. Frustrated often, intrigued occasionally, but never bored. So she grants him a rare smile and nods. "Yes I suppose you are that. Shame really, it can only happen in dreams isn't it? I mean I love Harry and Ron dearly but it would be nice to occasionally share a meal with someone who knows which fork to use."

He smirks and quips, "Oh Weasley knows. At least for his purposes, the answer is "none of them". Not when you have two monkey paws to shovel it in faster."

She laughs before she can stop herself and then tries to straighten and chastises, "stop that," around a snicker. "He's not… that bad."

"Is that the bar to which you measure your friends then? Not too bad? No wonder you crave my affections."

There's that blush again. "I think you're overstating my interest don't you?"

A slow smile spreads and he leans just a bit closer, checking her own shoulder back playfully. If her heart wasn't racing before, that certainly speeds the pace. His silver eyes are entirely to intense and then, almost to prove a point, he lets his eyes pan down her just barely, just to her lips, and then back up to meet her eyes. She can't hide the hitch in her breath and curses herself for it. "On the contrary, it might have even been an understatement."

"I- in your dreams." She means it in the muggle way that refers to wishful thinking but she sees him sigh and lean away from her again as if she's hit a literal truth.

"Don't remind me. It's nice to pretend, isn't it? Just let it be real for a moment, instead of whatever madness awaits us this year?"

She doesn't like when the dreams take these melancholy turns, her dream Draco voicing her own inner concerns. But she can't argue with the sentiment. So instead she just lays back in the grass and watches the clouds float by, momentarily obscuring the sun and casting them in shadow. "It is nice. Let's just… pretend then."

She feels him lay down beside her, so close she can almost feel his arm brush the skin of her hand. If she sneaks her own arm just a smidge closer, she'll never tell.

She dozes off in the dream with a soft smile on her lips and swears she hears him whisper goodbye before she wakes.

A/N Me again :) Reviews would be delightful! Thank you as always for those reading, following, and reviewing!


	4. A Day in the Life

**Time Period: Dreams of Requirement between final chapter and epilogue. Horcrux hunting we will go**

"So was it…different? I mean… is it different now?"

Draco is out with Potter in the sodding forest looking for sodding wood for the sodding fire. He'd been cautioned to do it the muggle way, forgoing the obviously more practical Accio in case anyone might pick up their magical signatures. He's predictably not having a great time.

"Is what different?" he grouses out, shaking his pant leg free of a bramble.

"With Hermione. I mean… the real one not the dream one."

Draco, relishing the distraction, allows the slow grin of a Cheshire cat. "Are you asking if shagging her is better? I was lead to believe your relationship was completely platonic…"

"What?! No! I mean it is platonic and no I wasn't asking that. I just meant, you know, _her_. Now that you've been… together… the past few weeks. Is she the same?"

He frowns. Potter can't possibly have understood the ramifications of his time with Hermione to ask this. "Of course she is. She was always Hermione."

"It's just you were awful to her and she can be so… bossy. I can't imagine you two getting together."

Draco shrugs and continues on, stepping carefully to not scuff his dragonhide boots (possibly not the most practical footwear for forest dwelling but hey, dragonhide is all he had). "It's amazing how you see someone without other people getting in the way. Other people, other… I don't know… _things_."

Harry snorts from somewhere behind him. "That was a terribly elegant way to describe."

"Oh fuck off, Potter. You're not completely daft; I'm sure you know what I mean. In the dreams, she was just… Hermione. Not the top of her class or a muggleborn or even the best friend to some ponce named Harry." He grins to himself for that one.

Harry seems to let the dig at him slide however and goes on, "Yes but she's still Hermione and she _is_ all of those things. She didn't stop being a muggleborn."

"No but I suppose I stopped caring. Stopped focusing on those things so I could just know _her_. Maybe it was more that I could just be Draco then."

"So all of your pureblood opinions just vanished overnight because a pretty witch let you get under her jumper?"

Draco stops walking. Loaded down with small logs, he drops them to the forest floor. "Let's get one thing straight Potter: Hermione is much more than a pretty witch and don't you ever speak of her that way, with so little respect. You think those nights in the room were just some wet dream fantasy? Think she'd ever just jump on a bloke's cock because she thought she could?"

He moves closer and pokes Harry in the chest, taking advantage of Harry's arms being full with his own kindling. "We _talked_ , Potter. We told each other things and we came to understandings. My opinions on blood purity didn't vanish, you prat, they _evolved_. And I'd like to think she came away with some understanding of pureblood society as well. An understanding of who _I_ am."

"I… sorry. I didn't mean- I don't know what I mean. I guess I'm still just having a hard time with this."

Draco bends down and starts collecting his pile back into his arms. "Well get used to it because I'm not going anywhere."

"She really does mean a lot to you. Hermione." It doesn't seem to be a question. "You didn't just use her for a way out or a distraction."

He snorts at Harry. "As if anyone could use that witch for anything without her knowing. She's far too clever for that. No, she must actually like me. And _you_ for whatever reason I can't understand."

They finish their task in silence and then make their way back to their camp. Weasley and Hermione are waiting for them and patiently stoking a small fire.

"It's about time!" She rises and plucks two logs from Draco's pile and lays them gently on top of the small hungry flame, careful not to cut off its oxygen as she does. She brushes her hands off first on each other, then her pant leg while Draco drops the rest of his pile a few feet away. Harry follows his lead and drops his own on top of the small stack.

Taking their places around the fire, they sit in unspoken agreement that they've toiled enough this evening. Setting up the camp and wards had taken a lot of energy and tomorrow they just have to do it all again.

Hermione scoots closer to Draco and lays her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her in response and closes his eyes, focusing on the smell of her hair and the familiar cadence of her breath.

When he opens his eyes he finds the other two boys in his party staring at them: Harry with a curious expression and Weasley with that familiar disgust he often bestows upon them. Holding their gazes he tilts his head closer to his witch and asks, "Should we turn in for tonight?"

She responds without even opening her eyes with a slight nod and an exhausted, "Yes please, I'm absolutely spent."

"Not too spent I hope, lover. I was saving the last bit of my energy for you." He smirks and winks at Weasley who makes an even more exaggerated face.

Eyes still closed she says, "Stop winding up Ronald, you prat."

He exchanges a look with Harry who sniggers quietly and claps Ron on the back.

Draco stands and drags Hermione to her feet. She gives a little wave to her friends and follows him into the tent. Just as she's about to enter the flap she turns back. "Oh and Ron, remember it's a flick _then_ a swish for a really good Muffliato."

Inside, Draco pulls her close with his arms wrapped around her waist and grins at her. "I love you, you wicked girl."

"You're a terrible influence on me you know."

"But he's fun as hell to rile isn't he? Be honest." He gives her a mock stern look which she answers with a giggle.

"Because he's just too easy," she whispers in delicious conspiracy.

"Can he pull off the spell, do you think?"

"Oh he probably can but it's a shame I've cast the counter charm already."

Draco laughs and kisses her, relishing in the not-to-quiet moan he elicits from her, urging a squeal as he grasps her bum.

Traipsing through the woods and getting twigs stuck in his shirt and eating burnt fish?

Worth it.


	5. The Reveal

**Time Period: The night after the events in the tower at the end of Dreams of Requirement**

The shrieking shack seemed a decent enough place to hide, obvious really, until the trio can smuggle Draco from the grounds. Hermione spent a few teary minutes appealing to Harry at the top of the Astronomy tower before they stashed Draco away and then proceeded with their obligations. Someone still needed to alert the school of Dumbledore's passing and Snape's apparent betrayal.

Though somewhere deep inside, Hermione always remembers their old potions professor could have killed her and instead hid her safely away.

Now they are together, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Draco, and Hermione is trying to explain to her dearest friends the odd events of the past year. The three boys sit, Draco quite far from the other two, while she has paced and told her tale.

Predictably, Ron isn't taking it well.

"Wait, wait… so you've been snogging Malfoy? For months?!"

Hermione starts to answer him with her usual haughty, chastising tone (but with a dash of platitude to calm his ire).

Of course that falls apart when Draco offers up, "No, Weasley, you're not paying attention. Shagging. She's been _shagging_ me for months."

He smirks and settles back, awfully smug for a boy who was weeping into her hair a few hours ago and nursing a couple of broken ribs. Of course now Hermione knows him better. He fronts and postures and peacocks because that's what he's always done, who he was raised to be.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Indeed Ron looks a bit green.

"It's not quite… I mean we weren't _really_. You know… physically."

Hermione is blushing red and glares at Draco when he throws in, "Though I imagine we can remedy that now. Yes, Lover?"

She narrows her eyes at him. Front or not he's making this difficult. "You don't have to enjoy this quite so much."

Draco turns a bit more serious and counters, "I've enjoyed very little of my life the past months, forgive me a bit of elation and the current turn of circumstances."

Ceasing her incessant pace, she moves to his side and places her hands on his face, locking into his eyes. The annoyance and the jabs and the jokes… all just part of her Draco who is now terrified and, other than her, alone. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine... I'm so happy you're here." She settles her forehead against his and sighs with her eyes closed. They stay that way, pressed together and listening to each other breathe for probably longer than is comfortable.

At least much longer than _Ron_ is comfortable. "Oi! Could you _not_?! Merlin, this is bloody unsettling."

Draco looks over at him and grins. "Four syllables on that one? You _have_ been paying attention to her all these years." He nods, indicating Hermione.

"Oh hush." She smacks him lightly.

"So what now?" Draco has asked, and this time he is looking at Potter.

"I have to…" He seems to hesitate and they are all palpably aware as to why.

"Harry," Hermione admonishes, "you can trust him. Or if you can't, trust _me_. He won't do anything that might hurt me."

She glances at Draco and he meets her eyes. The barest shake of his head and he whispers, "never" as she strokes his cheek with her fingertips.

Harry clears his throat and readjusts himself in his chair. "I have to find something, to help kill You-Know-Who." Another pause and he finishes, not expecting much response, "Horcruxes."

Harry is surprised when Draco snorts. "Fairytale. No wizard makes Horcruxes anymore. Not in centuries. Certainly not multiple ones."

"I… how do you even know about those? Dumbledore acted like it was a big secret."

Draco shrugs. "Pureblood," he says like it explains everything. "I've been learning magic history and theory with a governess since I was five." He glances over at Hermione. "Oh what you think only muggles have lessons in their youth? How do you imagine I know how to bloody read?"

She blushes. "I actually always wondered, what with no formal system in place."

He gestures vaguely to Weasley, "Yes I'm sure with the company you keep you imagined we were just playing with dirt and grunting out monosyllabic words until we turned eleven."

"Hey!"

Draco is finding that riling up Weasley is way more fun than riling up Hermione. Which is perfect because he has also decided that shagging Hermione is way more fun than riling _her_ up.

Hermione glares at him yet again but he's having none of it. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he topples her so she falls into his lap.

"Oof. I think you're heavier in real life."

Her glare turns to horror as he chuckles.

"Yes I see why you fell for him, Hermione," Potter snarks out.

Draco looks at her with adoration. "She knows I don't mean it. She's perfect."

In the corner, Ron rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Merlin's Fucking Hat, this is disgusting."

Hermione's arms are crossed and her head turned away but Draco sees her lips quirk up slightly. She schools her face just as fast though and says in her swotty way, "Regardless, Draco, you can't be awful to Ron and Harry. Not if we're going to be together hunting Horcruxes."

"What?!" Comes a shout from all three in unison. They glance at each other with a bit of mistrust and distaste.

"Well you don't imagine Ron and I are letting you go alone?" She says to Harry with all practicality. "And of course Draco is going to be with me… aren't you?" Her confidence wanes and she looks down at him.

He softens, as he always does, and always will, for her. "Of course I will. You're my whole world remember? Much more close to literally now," he chuckles.

The lovers hear Ron clear his throat. "Right then. So where do we start?"

Hermione and Ron look at Harry but he shrugs and looks a bit sheepish, his bravado slipping. "I'm umm… not really sure honestly."

Draco snorts again, a sound both Harry and Ron assume will grow very tired in the months ahead. "You're serious then? You really believe he made horcruxes?"

Harry nods. "That's where Dumbledore…" He takes a shuddering breath, obviously still very affected by last night's events. "That's where we went, to retrieve one. But it wasn't even real."

"Told you-"

"No," he interrupts. "It wasn't real but only because it had been switched. Here, look." He produces the locket from his trouser pocket and tosses it to Draco who catches it with a Seeker's skill.

"R.A.B."

"Yes," Potter nods, "We're not sure who-"

"Regulus Black I suppose."

The usual trio stares in silence for a while as Draco continues to study the locket. He looks up to their scrutiny and answers a question no one asked. "He was my cousin."

Hermione looks at Harry with an eyebrow raised, inviting him to admit what she's just ascertained.

"Alright so he might not be completely useless." The entire room is shocked that it's Ron who made the statement. "I mean, he's a fucking arse but this is war right? Let's get this done."

He nods at Draco who, surprising to everyone, civilly nods back. He looks back at Hermione and strokes his knuckles down her cheek, in reverence of his fortune and getting lost in her adoring gaze. He's in with everything he has. He will protect her and everything dear to her and come out on the other side of this with his witch in his arms. "Let's get this done."


	6. Everyone's Doing It

**Time Period: around 2005 with a married Draco and Hermione**

 **Disclaimer: This is the silliest thing I've ever written. You'll probably appreciate it more if you're a gamer. Inspired by trinka belle though I'm not sure this is what she had in mind...**

Draco finds Hermione in their casual sitting room staring at their television with a strange remote control in her hand. Far from their usual rectangular item, it's oddly shaped and doesn't seem to have as many button options. He sneaks up on her, as he often delights in doing, and surprises her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh! Draco! Why do you do that?!" He loves it when she jumps and simply smiles back.

Taking a seat next to her on their sofa he gestures to the screen. "Watching a film? Is this what you do when the Ministry takes a half day and I'm slaving away at the office?" He grins as he teases her, not meaning it in the slightest. His wife works very hard at her job and he would never hold against her a little recreation during the day.

She blushes regardless and mumbles, "Not a film really. Nothing you'd find interesting."

Oh well now of _course_ he's interested. Don't ever tell Draco Malfoy he shouldn't want something. He'll just prove you wrong by falling in love with a muggleborn (take that Tom Riddle).

He watches for a moment and decides, "Well this is the most boring thing I've ever seen. Is it just... there's not really a story. Just that slutty cat monster standing in a forest."

"I know. Like I said, not really your thing. If you want to start dinner I'll join you in just a few moments."

He almost agrees until he sees words bounce onto the bottom of the screen.

 _Chosenforever: mione u there? afk?_

"Is that... does it _know_ you? Is this like an enchanted film?"

"Um no. It's muggle technology. I know how you don't care for muggle trappings, no reason to get into the specifics."

The more she protests, the more he wants to know.

The cat creature is joined on the screen by what looks like a pair of small-eyed house elves, one of which which waves at the cat. They all then just stand there. What's the entertainment in this?

 _Cannonsrule: she thre?/? thought we were questing_

 _Chosenforever: said afk then stopped moving. ring her?_

"Wait... Cannons Rule? Is that? Oh Salazar is this a 'video game'." He looks at his wife and she blushes crimson.

"Maybe. Yes."

Draco raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "I distinctly remember, not last month, a conversation at Potter's in which you agreed with his harpy of a wife that he was a 'selfish man-child for wasting time they could be together on a worthless muggle soul-sucking scam'."

He watches her use the item in her hand for a moment and then sees a message appear, presumably from her.

 _Dragonbride: Away from keyboard. Please be patient._

Hermione puts the controller down and turns to him with her own eyebrow cocked. "Draco, when would you ever imagine it's a good idea to disagree with a pregnant Ginny Potter? _Ever_."

He chuckles a little and wraps his arms around her to pull her closer. "Never, of course. It's the one time I forgive hypocrisy really. She's such a beast."

His wife laughs and kisses him soundly, pillowing his upper lip to give him the luxury of tasting the bottom of hers. He hums his approval and lets his hands wander to the hem of her shirt, sneaking to feel the skin underneath-

"Stop stop, I need to get back." She's pushing away and grabbing at the control again.

"Wait, what?

"There's this boss mob that's going to pop here and we need it for my quest. I can't solo it either so I have to do it while I have a party."

He regards her with wide eyes for a moment as she engages back into the game, alerting (presumably) Harry and Weasley that she's back.

"Merlin, you're a serious gamer… how long have you been playing?"

"Hmm? Oh maybe a year or so."

"A YEAR?! How in seven hells did I never know this."

She looks over and shrugs, "I play when you're on the pitch."

"But I play with Harry."

Hermione looks at him like he might be a little daft and slowly agrees with a drawled out, "yes…." She looks expectant like he might make a point.

"Well, you're playing with Harry. How do you do that while he's playing Quidditch with me?"

She laughs a little as if she's just caught on to something silly. "Oh because I hardly ever play with Harry. I mean he's helping me today because no one was available in my guild to help. But really," she leans close with a grin like she has a secret to tell, "He's honestly such a newb I can hardly stand to play with him. And oh my Lord, Ron… he's supposed to be a tank and I swear he's made of paper."

Draco's poor face twists into a scowl of confusion that goes completely unnoticed by Hermione as she has jumped intently back into the game.

 _Dragonbride: he popped_

 _Dragonbride: buff us harry_

 _Dragonbride: harry?_

 _Dragonbride: ron wtf is harry?_

 _Cannonsrule: ummm ginny home srry mione_

 _Cannonsrule: logging off. try tommorow kk?_

The odd little characters next to what Draco assumes is actually _Hermione's_ slutty cat monster vanish and she is alone save a small dragon-like creature that is wandering in the background.

"Gahhhh!" Hermione growls, actually growls, and tosses her remote unit hard to the floor. Somehow that makes her cat creature run blindly into the dragon-thing and very quickly it seems her character might be dead.

"Great, just fucking great." She kicks at the remote and then flops back into the couch with a huff, arms folded tightly against her chest.

She seems quite put out by the death of her little cat girl. "Does that mean you lose?"

"What? Oh, no. I can try again I just have to wait until I can get a group. Preferably not those two idiots either."

Another silence falls when Draco thinks of something and smirks. "So… Dragon Bride, huh?"

Hermione grins wide. "Of course. I mean I didn't want to be too obvious. Plus, fucking Parkinson took "Dracosgirl" to piss me off," she scowls in annoyance.

"You… you're not serious."

"Of course I am. God that witch likes to get on my last nerve-"

" _Pansy_ Parkinson. Plays _this_?"

Hermione takes the opportunity to climb in Draco's lap and wrap her arms around his neck. "Everyone's doing it, lover," she purrs. "Want to join me?" She grinds down softly into his lap and arches her back just slightly, pushing her cleavage not so subtly toward him and pouting her lips.

Draco doesn't know what game she's playing, but he certainly is willing to encourage it. "Of course, baby. I'd love to join you." He leans in, intent on suckling her neck, right at her shoulder where she likes but she hops off before he can make contact.

"Great!" Suddenly a second control unit is thrust in his hands and he's looking over at Hermione who is beaming at him.

"Let's make you a character. I think you should be a mage. Probably would help you feel comfortable, you know, since it's your first time." She winks at him and proceeds to tell him about "stats" and "allocation" and "gear".

Suddenly Draco thinks Ginny Potter might not be such a crazy harpy after all. But for Hermione, he will try nearly anything, as hopelessly in love as he is.

Within two months he's a level fifty White Mage to Hermione's max level Dragoon and they don't need Harry or stupid Ron Weasley to kill a wyvern, thank you very much.

Besides, Blaise Zabini is running the largest quest guild on the server according to Theo Nott. Draco knows how to social climb, even if it's just a fantasy.


	7. Blaise of Glory

**Time Period: What is often known as "8th year", back to Hogwarts after the war. Bit more "M" than the first few drabbles, though not overtly so.**

"No. No fucking way, Granger. This is _not_ ok."

Hermione stops pulling clothes from her trunk to turn and face Draco who is standing with his arms folded over his chest by her bedroom door.

"You're being ridiculous, Draco. Completely unreasonable. And anyway, what would you have me do? Turn down the badge?" She flips her hair over her shoulder, going back to her unpacking and scoffs out, "No, thank you, very much."

"I can't believe anyone would think this is acceptable. I mean, you can't even get to the girls dormitory in a regular common room and you two have an adjoining fucking bathroom! I won't stand for this… I'll-"

"Tell your father?" She asks cheekily. He huffs and watches Hermione close her empty trunk with finality before turning to face him again. "I thought he was your friend anyway? You invited him to that gathering in August…"

"I would say 'friend' is stretching the meaning of that word to breaking point. Anyway, Mother made me invite him. Wanted to 'fill the manor with the laughter of youth' or some such rubbish." Suddenly his tone rises back up, away from the more civil volume he had found and he's flailing his arms in emphasis. "And it doesn't fucking matter if he's my friend it's still absolutely unseemly!"

She sniggers. "Un _seem_ ly. My, you're so very proper."

He points an accusing finger, "This isn't funny, Granger! I don't trust him as far as I can throw him with any witch but most _especially_ not with you!"

"Just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" She places her hands on her hips and if Draco has any sense he can see he's pushing into dangerous territory. "Do you find me particularly untrustworthy compared to other witches? Maybe you think I'm too weak willed to resist the efforts of a Slytherin, what with your own personal experiences on the matter."

"No! No, of course not." He takes a cleansing breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, a grossly plebeian habit he picked up from fucking _Potter_ in the fucking _woods_. _Thanks, Scar-head._ "I just mean I know how he… I mean before you and I… He's not completely uninterested in you alright?"

"Wha- why? What did he say?"

Draco cocks an eyebrow at her. "What, are you interested all of a sudden?"

She has the audacity, the absolute gall, to sodding _blush_. "You are! What the ever-loving fuck, Granger?!"

"Oh stop I'm not _interested_. It's just that it's _interesting_."

"The difference there being?" He gestures with his hand for her to continue.

"I just never would have guessed. I mean, you of all people know I wasn't exactly beating off the wizards with a stick, Draco. Everyone seemed to think I was some untouchable prude." She looks at him in question and he just stares back until she stomps and says, "Well?!"

"Well what? Oh. What did he say? Nothing I care to repeat."

"Oh." Draco sees her look a little crestfallen and he can tell she thinks she read the situation wrong. Probably assumes Blaise had said something more along the lines of violence and intolerance. There had been bigotry underlying but that wasn't the meat of his comments.

Draco sighs and rolls his eyes. "He said… he said you were hot alright? And I'd rather not think too much on that. And more to my original point I'd rather he not fucking live _connected to your room_!"

"Now, Draco, don't be selfish. She's plenty enough witch to split her time between the two of us." Blaise Zabini saunters into the room like the King of Everything and plops down on the end of Hermione's bed. She rolls her eyes at him and goes about putting her things away. Draco glares at his 'friend'. "After all, as Head boy and girl, we will be expected to work together _quite_ often."

"You're such a wanker."

Blaise smiles wider and then addresses Hermione. "About moved in, luv? I was thinking we might discuss the rotation schedules this evening. Perhaps take an early dinner? The elves are happy to serve us here so we can avoid the Great Hall." Draco is clenching his fists and assumes his face is growing from pink to red to most likely a very Ron Weasley shade of purple with rage. "We should take advantage after all of such… _private_ accommodations."

"Zabini, I will fucking end you."

Hermione takes that moment to interject. "Dear Lord, Draco, can't you see he's winding you up?"

"Yes, Draco, just harmless fun." Blaise leans back and to the side, now laying across Hermione's bed with his head propped on one hand.

"So help me, Blaise, I will ward the fuck out of this room in ways that will curse places on your body you didn't know you had! And get the hell off her bed! I plan to sleep there on occasion and don't want it reeking of that grotesque Italian cologne you favour."

"Only on occasion? Does that mean other nights are up for grabs in her schedule?"

Blaise barely makes it out the door before Draco's stinging hex strikes the wall, marring the grey paint by the door frame.

"Honestly…"

"He started it," Draco pouts and looks steadfastly away from her.

Hermione crosses the room and slides her arms around Draco's waist. "You don't honestly have some concern he's going to try something do you?"

He looks down at her and finds her smiling up at him with something that reads like condescension wrapped up in adoration.

"No," he grouses. "Not really. I just don't like him being so close." He raises a brow and smirks, "Especially with that proclivity of yours to sleep in the nude."

She grins and kisses the tip of his nose. "Well you'll just have to be here to keep an eye on me then."

"Is that an open invitation?"

Hermione looks at him strangely. "You're not serious. We've slept together every night for over a year. Even at the manor. Don't think your parents liked that over much either… Of _course_ you'll sleep here. Did you have other arrangements you were hoping for?"

Draco offers her a grin as he says, "You do know it's against the rules right?"

She steps slightly away to perch her hands back on her hips and give him 'that look'. " _Rules_?" she asks, incredulous. "We broke into a damned bank, Draco."

"Well yes but that was for survival."

"I hexed a fellow student for tattling."

"Really though stakes were high that year. With Umbridge and everything…"

"I brewed polyjuice from Snape's stolen stores."

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, so you've said. But I mean, come on, you thought I was the heir of Slytherin and for you that was a _very_ real danger-"

"I kept a woman trapped in a jar."

"You- wait. You what now?"

Hermione blushes. "Oh. Guess I hadn't told you that one yet."

Draco chuckles and pulls her close again. "I expect to hear every detail. You can tell me all about it tonight when we're laying in your bed since apparently the rules don't apply to Hermione Granger."

She smacks his arm but agrees, "It's a good story. You'll be proud I think."

They go to walk out together to grab her smaller trunks and find Blaise leaned against the wall in the hallway. "A fucking _jar_? I've got to hear this. How were you not sorted into Slytherin again?"

Draco groans, "Merlin, now he'll be even more intrigued."

Ignoring Draco almost completely, Blaise goes on, cocking his head playfully at Hermione at stepping closer. "I knew there was more to you than that good-girl over-achiever reputation, Granger. This is going to be the best year ever."

This time, he's not quite able to dodge the stinging jinx, probably because Hermione has faster aim. Draco chuckles as his friend yelps and rubs the front of his thigh where her spell had struck.

"I'm quite fond of you Blaise, but you have to know I won't let you goad him too far. You'll put him in a right sour mood and then I have to deal with him."

She flounces past, toward their shared common room, and Draco gives his friend a wink.

Blaise shakes his head with a slow grin. "You lucky son of a bitch. Here everyone thought she was such a swotty little prig. I bet she's a firecracker… ever try that naughty librarian fantasy?"

Draco's smile broadens and he whispers back, "You don't know the half of it."

"Draco, stop peacocking our sex life and help me with my bags."

Blaise gives Draco a look that is part admiration and part jealousy as he continues down the hall after his witch. "On my way, lover. Anything for you."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Late that evening, having effectively snuck Draco into her dorm right under Snape's handsomely crooked nose (she would deny that particular descriptive thought if asked), Hermione is lying on her back, cocooned in the soft bedding provided by her dorm, her lover looking down at her with a smile.

"Did you cast a muffliato?"

She grins a wicked grin. "How long have you known me now? Of course not."

Draco raises his brow in question, "And what did you do, lioness?"

"Modified Sonorus that will filter sound directly into the adjoining room."

His smile drops. "You know, I don't mind you doing that type of thing to Weasley, tosser that he is, but Blaise is a different sort. Much less easily tormented and much less picky about where he finds his release. I'm not particularly in the mood to have to shoo him out of here in the middle."

She laughs at him and pulls him close, running a hand into his hair and softly biting down on his bottom lip. She shifts then, so her mouth is at his ear and says, "There's no Alohomora on earth that will get through my wards, Draco. It's going to drive him mad."

They both snigger before Draco kisses her hard, holding her head in place with one hand while the other sneaks beneath her night dress to caress up her thigh. Pulling away slightly he chuckles again and says, "Poor bastard has no idea what he's in for with you this year. You're going down, Zabini," he addresses towards the door. "Gloriously."

Moments later, straddling him and moaning loudly, Hermione almost loses her place, chasing after her orgasm when the pounding starts on the wall. She hides her mouth to suppress a laugh, looking down at Draco with bright, happy eyes as he shakes his head and mutters, "Merlin, I love you."

"I apologize, alright! You win! No more innuendoes just… please cancel the spell or invite me in you arseholes!"

"Finite Sonorus." Hermione drops down, pressing her chest against his, never slowing her rhythm, and adds, "Muffliato." She kisses the underside of his jaw and licks a trail to his ear. "I'm not heartless, you know." Draco would respond but finds himself rather unable as she speeds her pace.

And then this is all he is and all he wants. Blaise can hang, Weasley is a distant memory, and they could be back in the Room, the only two people in an entire world for all he cares.

So eventually he says, "I love you," again and is gratified that seems to be what pushes her over the edge.

After, in the quiet, tracing lines on his chest, she whispers it back.

XXXXXXXXXXX

In the Great Hall the following morning, Theo Nott is passing pumpkin juice to Daphne from around Blaise. "You seem a bit out of it today. Not sleep well? I bet it's hard, knowing there's a sexy witch just on the other side of the wall. Too bad she's a stuck-up prude, eh?"

Blaise looks up just in time catch Draco's eye and watches the blonde snicker as Zabini scowls.

"Fuck off, Nott."

 **A/N Good evening/morning! That last chapter of FTC took a lot out of me and I'm starting to work on more chapters of that story. In the meantime, I wanted to write a little Dreams fluff to palate cleanse so here you have it! Reviews are a precious gift, and since, they fuel the creative beast, it is the gift that keeps on giving!**


	8. The Malfoy Perspective

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, including apparently, the time and patience to sit on this for editing. Please forgive any typos.**

 **Position in the timeline: The events here would take place after the Astronomy Tower chapter of Dreams of Requirement. I am also doing a bit of an EWE to my own epilogue. Nothing big, just rethinking how I might have had the Malfoy's find their son. Slight difference only in that Draco was alone when he found them in Dreams but here he has Hermione by his side. These are the bits and pieces that might concern Lucius and Narcissa regarding the "death" of their son during the events of the Horcrux hunt and final battle.**

* * *

"And the boy, Severus? What of young Mister Malfoy? He had succeeded in his task, yes? The cabinet…"

Voldemort lets the remainder of his question hang, unasked, lording over a penitent Severus Snape, bowed low, head nearly touching the floor in the large receiving parlour of Maloy Manor.

In the back of the room, Narcissa is standing with a fist clenched, tight to her breast, maintaining a stoic look on her face as she awaits news of her son's fate.

"He fell, my Lord. He performed his task admirably but was followed to the Astronomy tower. He did not survive the encounter."

Narcissa wails in her head. She gnashes her teeth and pulls her hair. Except, really, she stands unmoved as she is told the loss of her only son. Beside her, Lucius lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes lightly. She's not sure if it's meant to be support for her or if he needs her to ground him. Regardless, the gesture does very little for them both.

Across the room, the Dark Lord nods in understanding. "A shame, to be sure. He had potential for one so young. Much promise. Like you, Severus. But, alas, I must be content you have returned to me. Rise, my boy. You have succeeded _spectacularly_."

Snape rises, his black robes billowing around him, and he steps to the side as Voldemort moves forward, toward the Malfoys who are looking on. When he reaches them, he places one of his clawed hands lightly on Narcissa's shoulder, just where Lucius had done.

"Your son, Narcissa, was a credit to the names Malfoy and Black. His sacrifice was such as to erase any displeasure I've had with your family." He then looks to Lucius, hand still on the man's wife. "Your place by my side has been restored through the extraordinary works of your heir. Do not squander this opportunity, Lucius."

Narcissa closes her eyes a moment, willing away the glassy sheen of her eyes, as she hears her husband stutter a weak, "n-no. No, my Lord. You are most generous. Thank you for your favour."

The man once called Tom nods at them both and then sweeps from the room. Snape follows behind, not able to meet Narcissa's eye.

"Lucius…" She whispers, when she is sure they are alone. "He stole our son…"

"Shhh, Cissy. You musn't-"

"Our ONLY SON! Lucius, I can't…"

She's breaking and she feels her legs collapse, unable to hold her weight for their shaking. She drops to the floor and her husband is there, wrapped around her.

Narcissa never believed as strongly in the cause as her husband. She is a woman who values tradition and lineage but sees no need for the carnage of war over the civility of politics. Before the Dark Lord had risen again, she had such plans for her son. She had secretly thanked Merlin for the end of the last uprising. Voldemort always asked too much. He corrupted her loving husband into a man that would attack children. He brought out the worst in Lucius, including this simpering acolyte. She loves her husband dearly for the life they once shared, but that love does not blind her to what he has become: A coward groveling to a corpse.

And now he has taken her Dragon. Her bright northern star. Draco who was a mirror to everything she had loved about his father.

"He's gone," she whispers into the crook of her husband's arm, clinging to him in want and need and desperation. "He can't be gone," she chokes.

Lucius doesn't answer; just holds her tighter until her body stops shaking. Then she pulls herself from his embrace and glides from the room toward the southern wing of the house.

They don't speak again for two months. Narcissa mourns in her private suite and only one house elf is granted entry.

Lucius begins to fear his choices have lost him far more than his son.

* * *

"What's this?"

It's been months since Narcissa learned of her son's death. Her husband has slowly coaxed her back out of her rooms and she is once again the formidable Lady Malfoy, stalking her own halls and barking orders at her staff. The Snatchers and Death Eaters had become accustomed to a revolving door policy at her manor but no more. Now any guest, even those with express permission by the Dark Lord, announce themselves to her on arrival. It's only polite, she had reminded with a cold stare and none had questioned her.

She is particularly incensed that she finds not one but 3 Snatchers in her receiving room with four dirty teenagers in tow. They are bedraggled and skinny and hollering at one another in the most uncivilized ways.

"Evenin', Missus," one of the ruffians answers her. She sniffs in response to his cocknied excuse for pleasantries. "We brung these four what used His name. Set off the taboo, they did."

Lucius is quick on her heels and pulls up short next to his wife. She is the picture of calm but she is buzzing inside. Narcissa cannot tell you how very fucking little she cares for taboos and Dark Lords and dirty strangers mucking up her house. Her life is a shambles without her son and the rest of them can go hang.

Instead, she nods and turns to her husband. "I believe this is your area of expertise, my heart."

Lucius looks wary at her, knowing by now that while she is polite to a fault, she has dangerous ideas as to the progress of the war. He nods at her as she takes a step away and studies her nails with disinterest.

"What have you brought then? A couple of filthy children?"

"We reckon this one here, is that Potter boy." The grimy one points at a dark haired young man with one eye nearly squinted closed.

"What happened to his face?"

"Weren't us. Caught 'im like this." He shoves the boy forward and he stumbles to his knee. Lucius uses the end of his cane to tilt the boy's chin higher.

"What's your name then?"

"Stan. Stan Shunpike."

Lucius snorts at the ridiculous answers. He has to admire the boy's moxy, but any wizard worth his wand knows this is not the driver of that death trap of a "bus". "And your friends?" He looks over the only girl in the group. Lucius feels he should be able to place her. Is that...

"What about you, girl? Going to tell me you're Minerva McGonagal I suppose."

The little chit has the gall to raise her head and level him with a cold stare. "Penelope Clearwater." He grunts again and is even more convinced he was correct.

"I think," he begins, "you are Potter's mudblood friend. The Granger girl." He watches for any indication, any twitch of her face to tell him he is correct but the girl stands stoic and proud.

"I can understand the confusion, Clearwater and Granger sounding so similar, sir."

He frowns at her cheek but moves on to the next, a boy with sandy hair, both in color and gritty particles in his scalp. They really are filthy, the lot of them.

"And you then?" The boy doesn't meet his eye and it makes him inexplicably angry, far more than the first two. "No alias you'd like to try to fool me with then? Come now, your friends were quite forthcoming with their lies." He realizes then the young man is not only avoiding his gaze, but also staring at an oblivious Narcissa.

Lucius twacks the boy on the side of his head with his cane. When he finally turns to him, there is hate in his eyes. They are blue as a cloudless sky and yet something in them feels familiar. He hides his questions with a sneer. "You should listen when addressed by your betters."

He has the nerve, the little prick, to _smirk_... at Lucius Malfoy... "I'll be sure to take that advice when I see any."

Lucius pulls back his cane to strike him when he hears his wife bark, "Lucius! Enough."

He looks back at her and finds her eyeing the children. Her wellborn mask slips back into place and she looks at him cooly down the bridge of her nose. "If you cannot determine who they are, perhaps you should store them away in the dungeons for the moment."

Narcissa, for her part, shifts her eyes back to the sandy haired boy, searching his face.

That might have been the end of it, at least for this evening, except Bellatrix Lestrange makes her entrance in that moment and catches sight of a sword being carried by one of the Snatchers.

She shoves forward and screams at the red-headed boy ( _must_ be a Weasley) in the Snatcher's grip. "That sword! Where did you get that sword?!" She's immediately unhinged, shoving a nail filed down to a cruel point into his chest. "Tell me where!"

When he just shakes him head numbly, her gaze swivels to the girl. "You. You'll tell me. Let's have a chat then. Just us girls." Bellatrix grabs the girl's arm and drags her from the group, all 3 boys reaching for her but none as fiercely as the boy with the angry blue eyes.

"Hermione!"

Ah. So it is her. "Take the rest and lock them away," he instructs the Snatchers. They grumble something about being paid and who does Lucius think he is but they heed the order nonetheless. He watches the boy, the one with the smart mouth and cold eyes, fight and nearly free himself from their grip. One of the Snatches finally lands a sharp blow to his gut that leaves him wheezing though still fighting in their grip. "Her... mione," he gasps out again.

The girl is looking frantically back but remains silent.

"Bellatrix." Lucius looks back at his wife who is holding up a hand to her sister. "Let me speak with her. I can look inside her mind-"

"No! She'll talk, Cissy. The mind can fool you but pain is an equalizer. She'll tell me," she finishes with an unnerving cackle and throws the girl on the ground, brandishing a small blade.

Lucius has little taste for torture in general and even less patience for ineffectual torture. He watches the Granger girl scream in denial and knows Bellatrix will gain nothing from this venture. It is folly, not to mention unseemly. She might not rank as a real witch, but even Lucius finds no pleasure in the screams and torment of others. Perhaps that is one reason he failed as a Death Eater, only having regained favour thanks to the sacrifice of his son.

His son.

He sees him in the faces of other young boys. For just a moment, that vitriol he found in the sandy-haired boys eyes was haunting and familiar. What he wouldn't give for an opportunity to scold his son, only to be met with petulance and ire. Draco had been a headstrong child. Stubborn and cheeky at the best of times. He misses those cold morning Lucius had forbid him from flying his broom only to find a barely school-aged boy sneaking his broom out of the house. He laments all the moments he demanded quiet from the boy when he only wanted to run and play as all boys do. He misses him, his only son, more than he would have thought possible. It had nearly broken Narcissa, but Lucius has also suffered quietly.

He's still lost in these thoughts when a commotion disrupts the room and bedlam becomes his home. The chandelier, priceless and massive, crashes to the floor just as the dungeons open up, spilling forth their captors. The boy with sandy hair is there first, racing to the mudblood and scooping her up in his arms.

They grasp hands and arms and shoulders, clustered together for apparition courtesy of the former Malfoy house elf. Little traitor.

The boy, the young man with the sand in his hair and the girl in his arms glances once more at Narcissa with an impossible expression of longing before settling a hard stare at Lucius. Then, as quickly as they had breezed in to the manor, they are gone and all is silent save for Bellatrix ranting into the void where they stood.

* * *

It is many days after the alleged Harry Potter escaped the manor before Narcissa approaches her husband, storming into his private study, fire lit in her eyes and a parchment in her hand.

He rises on seeing her and questions cautiously, "my love?"

The door slams behind her and she throws up nonverbal wards for privacy.

"We have been deceived," she hisses, quiet even in spite of the wards. There is a dangerous edge to her voice like Lucius has not heard in a very long time.

She approaches his desk and slams down the parchment on the desk that separates them, pointing sharply at the words. "Our son," she begins in a continued low voice, " _lives_ , Lucius. He _lives_."

His face crumbles into one of pity. He was sure she had grieved to completion. His wife had almost been her former self, a fact that had helped him tremendously with his own shattered heart. "Narcissa," he says patiently, moving around the desk to lay his hands on her arms. He intends to kiss her forehead as he had done when they were young; to stroke her cheek and whisper his affections. Instead she shakes off his hands and shoves at his shoulder.

" _Look_ , Lucius. Here." He glances down where she points and sees an ancient scrap with intricate magical sketches and words.

"Is that…"

"The original Black family tree yes. Not that garish Malfoy monstrosity. Which, by the way, has been charmed. Draco's death date… it _vanished_ under a strong Finite. He. Is. Alive."

He continues to study it, eyes wide and disbelieving. There, in beautiful script, is his son's name and birth with no following date of death. Raising his wand, Lucius tries various Finite and Revelio incantations only to find the paper to stand up as genuine. "He's alive…"

"Do you think…?" Her voice is softer now, hand clutched to her breast as she often does when emotionally affected. "Do you think he's safe? Do you think Severus…"

He glances between her and the tree, slowing offering up, "I think Severus kept his vow to you, Cissy. Far better than we gave him credit."

She sobs once, an uncontrolled sound and then he is there, wrapped around her and willing away the sheen from his own eyes. All the while he is remembering the hard blue eyes of a sandy haired boy that he's not been able to shake from his head. He works out, "He would only need hide if he has… betrayed his purpose. Betrayed…" He can't say it aloud. It's too frightening, too dangerous to imagine: His son earning the complete ire of their Lord.

"Do you remember that boy," she says quietly into his chest, "the one with Potter?"

He doesn't have to ask which, just closes his eyes tight and says, "yes."

She cries silently as he holds her.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy is trudging through a dank wood in the wake of the Dark Lord, surrounded by his masked followers, her husband amongst them. They spoke that morning, she and Lucius, and are in agreement that the moment they reach the castle, they will break from ranks and corner the illusive Severus Snape. It's been only a short time since the couple realized their future might not be so impossibly bleak, but the one man who might have answers has been rather absent. It occurred to Narcissa that he has actually been quite absent from their lives since Dumbledore's death. What she had thought was shame for failing them, might have been something far more telling.

Her hope is for a fast end to this battle. Part of her prays for Potter to find victory, her anger with the Dark Lord and what he has allowed done to her family is palpable. Not to mention, her fear if he finds out he has been tricked by her son. Part of her, however, also fears the death of Voldemort, understanding she will find much animosity if the Order wins. The names of Malfoy and Black will do far more than lose their luster; she might be tried for her crimes and taken away from any chance to reconcile with her child.

But the largest part of her cares very little for _who_ is victorious and _how_ it occurs. She only wants to find her son. Desperately, obsessively, she is looking for any opportunity to find him.

In a clearing, their ranks stumble upon a hapless Harry Potter and her breath catches. _This is it_ , she thinks. _One way or another, this will end._

She stands and watches with her breath held as the two face off. She expects a duel, spells flying between them. She realizes she was maybe not as ambivalent to the outcome as she told herself when the boy falls, leaving a cackling Dark Lord to gloat over him. The mass of faceless men around her, and of course her own troubled sister, cheer in exultation and laugh their cruel laughs. Only her Lucius is silent, grasping her hand and fighting to keep the walls up in his mind. Narcissa, one of the most gifted Occlumens of her generation, is the picture of calm while inside she is moaning in disappointment.

There is a tense moment in which Voldemort asks for a volunteer, one of his own to check the body of the fallen boy.

A boy. Just a boy. Like her Draco.

His bony finger circles the mass around him and finally, inexplicably, lands on Narcissa. "You." A stinging hex hits her arm. A warning in case she forget her place. A warning for obedience. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Stiffly, she straightens herself, careful to keep her mind clear and her posture proud.

Narcissa walks through the crowd, many of them sneering at her for being chosen by their Lord. For the _privilege_ of it. She plays the part and raises an eyebrow at this one, lifts the corner of her mouth in a smirk at that one. Her own sister looks at her like she might want to touch her robes for a blessing while simultaneously strangle her for taking what should have been _her_ place.

Harry Potter is prone, one leg struck out in a disjointed, uncomfortable position, his head turned away from their audience.

She falls down gracefully to her knees, her couture robes, far beyond inappropriate for battle, puddle around her on the hard ground. Carefully, she reaches to his neck, seeking that pulse of blood that might still give her hope.

She touches him gently, this boy. This not-quite-man who is the same age as her son and should be far from the realities of war. And… there. A flutter. She finds it and latches on, nearly swooning in relief. Instead she keeps her form rigid, moving her hand then to another position as if still searching for that thread of life.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"

She holds her breath, hand still stroking his neck softly. Suddenly she is nothing but a mother and he nothing but a child.

"Yes."

He barely moves his mouth, just breathes out the word through his teeth. She allows the softest smile, eyes fluttering closed for but a moment and her fingers clench at his chest, as though she could embrace Harry Potter and Draco and every child in this war with only her hand. She rises then, from her ashes, and turns in a triumph that is more sincere than this creature that was once Tom Riddle could possibly understand.

Joyously she announces, barely able to contain her glee, "He is dead!"

The Death Eaters cheer once again and Narcissa smiles an honest smile at the mask that hides her husband.

* * *

They are frantic, the Malfoys, searching the Great Hall, searching amongst the living and the dead. When she finds Severus Snape, she slaps him hard across his stoic face. Then she hugs him fiercly.

Over her head, Severus raises an eyebrow at Lucius who raises one right back.

"You saved him, didn't you," she asks quietly, pulling away.

The Potions Master gives her a rare smile. "I did. He is here, probably with Miss Granger."

"The Mudblood?" Lucius asks without thinking. Both Snape and his wife glare at him.

"The _girl_ ," he emphasizes, "played her own part in saving him, Malfoy. I caution you against using that language in his presence. Or _mine_."

Chastised, Lucius is silent for the rest of the exchange. Narcissa talks a moment longer; thanking him and scolding him in equal measure, when Snape's eyes catch something and he gestures with a nod of his head to the large double doors.

There, standing in the wreckage, is a filthy Draco Malfoy with his arm around the shoulders of an equally dirty Hermione Granger. Her arm is around his waist and her other hand is clutching the fabric over his heart. There is so much in their posture, their bodies speaking volumes about what they are to each other. Lucius sees very clearly that his son has found his Narcissa.

The boy's eyes are on his mother and then his perfect, pureblood wife is racing across the floor to embrace him. She hugs him so hard Draco would swear she compresses his very bones.

"Mother." There is so much relief in his voice. Lucius is only paces behind his wife and just catches the word as he watches his son cling back in their hold.

He stands awkwardly a moment, watching his wife and son, willing his breathing to stay even and his eyes not to glass over. He notices the mudblood-

The _girl_ … standing and shuffling her foot, looking as uncomfortable as he feels.

"Miss Granger."

Her eyes snap to his and from the corner of his own gaze, he sees his son pull away from Narcissa, his eyes narrowing.

"I understand," he begins carefully, "that we have you to thank, at least in part, for keeping our son safe all this time."

She nods at him, eyes wide and everything stops. Narcissa is watching the exchange warily while still clutching at Draco's dirty robes, Hermione Granger blinking owlishly at him, and Draco himself, looking potentially murderous.

Finally, just as it seems the tension in the air might crush them all, Lucius steps forward and places his hands on the young woman's shoulders, holding her gaze intensely as he says, "Thank you. Thank you for this miracle."

It's slow, but then there is a grin forming on her mud-streaked face. "It really was my pleasure, I assure you. But you're quite welcome, Mr. Malfoy."

He nods and releases her before pulling his son into a one-armed gentleman's hug, regardless of the controlled anger in the boy's eyes. "We knew you were alive. Apparently you can fool the Dark Lord, but Narcissa Malfoy is even more clever than your witch here. They do say men find their mothers in the women they love."

Just as Lucius starts to pull away, knowing he has a long road to forgiveness with his son, he feels Draco's strong hand, the hand of a man, clap him on the back.

He steps away to find his son grinning at him. For the first time in years. The first time in forever.

He and the girl move toward each other, drawn as magnets, as moths to their flames, just as Narcissa slips her arm around his back.

And Lucius Malfoy, pureblood scion, Death Eater scourge, powerful wizard of means, is overcome. His exterior cracks and he pulls his wife deeper into his side. He opens his mind and breathes deep, feels _joy_ , his eyes going to glass and his heart full.

"Lucius?"

He looks down at his wife, loving her and loving this world, no matter who won this war and what his future might hold. For today, he has his family, and that is enough. He smiles down at her warmly, stroking her arm with his hand. "My love?"

"You ever involve us in a mess like this again and I will castrate you and feed the pieces to our peacocks."

He smiles wider. "Yes, dear."

* * *

 **Look, I learned how to use horizontal line page breaks. 'bout time, huh?**

 **A/N: Wanted to give a shout out to Estrunk who helped inspire this one by reading Dreams of Requirement recently and commenting on each chapter. I was following along and it made me fall in love with this universe again. Plus, any excuse to write Malfoys...**

 **Be so kind as to drop me a review if you enjoy this little installment? Or if you have other things you might like to see out of this world? Thank you to all of you reading!**


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